Frozen Hell
by SarentoKensei
Summary: Lithuania is locked down in the basement, and is chained up, unable to get out. He's wanders, and comes across something... He decides to test his luck, and his fate... with a little Russian Roulette.


**My first actual story from Lithuania's point of view. Like, first person point of view. **

**ONESHOT!**

**Inspired by Rihanna's Russian Roulette.**

**I do not own Hetalia.**

**Lithuania is a very Catholic country, since I am Catholic, I know about it. I notice that Lithuania is very rarely religious in Fanfiction, I decided to make him religious in this one. So all you Catholic haters, get the fuck off this story. (I'm such a nice Catholic.)**

**Catholics generally pray to Jesus Christ, who then delivers the message to God or some shit like that. (Fuck, God's going to freaking strike me down for saying that.) It is a sin to commit suicide, if one ends the gift the lord gave them, they will be sent to rot in hell with that Lucifer dude for all eternity of something... I don't care if you have different views! This is CATHOLICISM! Lithuania's main religion! So if he was Jewish, Catholic, Mormon, or Muslim, I would make his views in that ways religion. So give me any hate mail and I'll sprinkle your ass with Holy Water and baptize you Catholic.**

**If I am wrong... Please note I've been to church three times and have only read the children's bible...**

**Oh, and as a mention I should make, Russian Rolette is very dangerous, don't play it kids.**

The basement was always so dark and cold; it was like stepping into that forbidden corner in a room with no light. You know there is nothing in that horrible corner, but you _feel _as if something is; something that will come out and tear you to shreds. Kill you. Scare you. Anything really, you just feel as if that specific point _something _will happen. You don't know what it is, but you just _think _something will. Possibly you have bad memories of that place. Like you cut yourself on accident or stubbed your toe, or maybe it is your own _fear of the dark _that causes you to hate it. Your fear of the _unknown._

So you learn to despise that specific point, and avoid it, in my case the basement, the best as humanly possible. But there is that point where you _have _to go there, it being your choice or not, and possibly stay down there for a long period of time as a _punishment._

_"Litva, why are you refusing to obey me?"_

_"Because I don't want to! You are not my master; I am not your slave! I DON'T HAVE TO OBEY YOUR EVERY FUCKING ORDER!"_

_"But Litva... I am your master. You are my slave. And you __**do **__have to obey my every. Fucking. Order."_

Recalling that conversation... yeah. That's the reason I'm down here. Because I refused to obey him, I'm not really sure what he wanted, I was just in a bad mood yesterday...

I really regret that now.

I know it's been a day; there is a small light down here, a single window that leads to the outside world. It unfortunately being barred and too small for even Latvia to fit through. That is what tells me my time of day, that single light, that tells me there is another tomorrow... That tells me that Russia will eventually remember me and let me out.

He tends to forget me though, and I would scream and yell for him to come get me out, but no one can hear me since Russia sound proofed the room... Saying when he tortured me I screamed to loud and it unnerved the other household occupants. The other household occupants that are held captive here against their will.

I take beatings at their expense so they don't have to go through what I do. I'm _glad _Russia sound proofed the walls so they wouldn't hear my scream and cry in pain as Russia... really did whatever to me.

I took another walk around the basement, being sent here so often I knew everything in the _pitch black _room. I knew not what it looked like in the light, for Russia never put in a new light bulb, and I've never seen it with the light.

I stopped suddenly, the long chain at my wrist coming to an end. I look down at my wrist, even though I know I can't see it. Realizing it was pointless to stare at the chain as if it would come off and I could walk out of here, for the door has no lock. Picking up the chain, I follow it back to the location of the wall it is hooked to.

Running my hands along the cold, moldy wall, I sigh. My stomach cries out, pleading that it is hungry, demanding food that I cannot give it. I moan, calling out for Russia to let me out. Not because I think he'll hear me, I know he won't, just to give me peace of mind that I'm still here. My own voice giving me reassurance.

Cold washes over me, chilling me to the bone. I glance over to the small window, and feel as if I will cry.

Snow begins to cover the window. Falling for the first time since the beginning of Summer. I walk over to the window and stand under its light for the last few moments before that dreadful _snow _covers it up, leaving me to rot in the darkness.

Collapsing on the ground, crying over that my one sliver of happiness was torn away by something of Russia's _yet again._

Shaking hard, I cannot stop. I want _out. _I want _freedom. _I want the own self reassurance that I can do whatever I want without having Russia looming over me, without ever having to ask permission to do everyday things.

_'Russia, may I go to the store to get groceries?'_

_'Go ahead, but if you are not back in a hour, that means you have ran away, and you should be punished.'_

_'Yes sir.'_

_'Russia, may I go to Poland's house and spend the night?_

_'Hmm. Sure, but before you go, I want you to finish all of your chores...twice.'_

_'Twice? B-but by the time I'm done, I won't be able to go over!'_

_'Not my problem~'_

_'Russia, may I cook Cepilinei for my birthday?'_

_'No~'_

_'Why not?'_

_'I will not allow you to cook non-Russian food, got it?'_

_'Yes sir...'_

How I long for the return of my own free will, the will to do what I want, when I want it.

I long for my paradise, basking under the warm sun whilst lying in the rye fields of my own country.

_Heaven._

I reach under my shirt, gripping the cross that dangles around my neck, and run my thumb across the single, perfect man that died for our sins.

_Jesus, take me away from this Frozen Hell. Ascend me to heaven so I can meet my maker. I am no longer a nation, forgotten is what I am. Part of the USSR, not Lietuvos. Please, end my life now! I no longer wish to live!_

_Please... I beg you..._

_Amen._

My prayers don't work, I still sit in this wretched basement. My Catholicism has failed me; Jesus and the Lord have abandoned me. Poland abandoned me...

Everyone has abandoned me.

Oh god...Why has everybody abandoned me?

_Am I really that...worthless._

_Lietuva...The place where it rains, rains, and rains._

_Who could love a place that generates rain?_

_Who likes the rain?_

_Not even my Lord, it would seem._

Once more I follow the chain that binds my wrist, but instead of returning to the wall, I bump into a table I have yet to notice.

I run my hand along the top of the table, my body freezes up as I come along a familiar cold metal. I almost instantly recognize it.

The revolver Russia uses to play his favorite game.

Russian Roulette

My Lord! Is this a sign? A sign...to end my life? It is a sin to destroy the life, the gift God has given me...

But I asked, _begged _him to end me.

This is a sign.

I slid open the cylinder, and feel how many shot are in it.

One bullet makes the gun loaded.

I get it now, God is testing me.

Mocking me.

Then I shall play along, take the test which may be my last one ever.

I shall play _Russian Roulette._

I push the cylinder back in and cock the gun. Spinning the cylinder, I place the barrel to the temple of my skull. My breathing becomes tense, and I wonder...If I will ever see another sunrise. I want to see the beautiful sun again... I decide that if this is not the shot that has the single bullet, I will not try again.

I will not meet my Lord.

My hands become sweat ridden, tears form in my eyes. I do not want to die, but I do not want to live either.

If this is that single shot that is to kill me, I realize that I will never speak to people I love again.

_They have abandoned you._

_But I still love them._

_America, Poland, Estonia, Latvia...Belarus..._

I won't get the chance to say good-bye to any of them.

But this is my test.

It's too late to think of the value of my life.

So just pull the trigger.

Breathing in deeply, I try my hardest to bring my index finger back, and pull the trigger back. But my body just won't allow me. I scream out loud, to pull the damn little piece of metal back, I want to know if this single attempt will end my life.

I have a one-sixth chance of killing myself, five-sixths chance of living.

I pray to Jesus Christ for that single bullet to penetrate my head and kill me.

The revolver slips ever so slightly, and tighten my sweaty grip. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. I close my eyes, not that I could see anything, and take another breath. I ready my finger slowly, watch my life flash before my eyes, causing me to wonder if I really want this.

Watching all the times I was happy with Poland and America, and even the times Russia was nice to me... Made me wonder if I really _did _want this. Then I saw all the times Poland was rude or cruel to me, the time America let me down and let Russia take me away, and every time Russia had left another scar upon my back.

I'm willing to do this.

I'm willing to die.

My heart is beating hard, and I know that I'm scared, I know deep down there is that old me that wants to live, that wants to fight on.

But I'm not turning back, I already readied myself. Deciding to count to three, and pull the trigger. If I live, then God still has more in store for me, and it is not my time to die. If I die, then that is my fate, and I shall live in paradise with my Lord.

_One..._

I'm scared...

_Two..._

I must go through this test.

_Three..._

"Litva?" Light floods in, I can only make out the figure of Russia.

"Litva...what are you doing... LITVA!"

_Click._

I sit there for a few moments, noting how nothing has happened. Russia ran into the room, and wrenched the gun from my grip. He flipped open the cylinder and looked inside, the extra light providing it to where we could see.

The next bullet sat in its chamber, the next bullet that would be fired. Russia slid the chamber back in, and fired the gun at the wall, the sound echoing off the walls.

He dropped the gun and put his hands on my shoulders, instantly I begin to shake. He pulls me into an embrace, mumbling so fast in his own tongue that I cannot possibly understand him. Two word catch my ear however, and I freeze up instantly.

"Aš atsiprašau.."

He is...speaking my tongue?

"Мне очень жаль." I reply back to him, but he chooses to hush me, petting me instead.

I realize my Lord did not want me to die that day.

I'm sort of glad I didn't.

**If Himiwari wants rights to this she can go ahead and take them. I started writing this and THEN the whole lock up, starvation thing happened (So many people will be like "Dafuq u talkin' 'bout beetch?)**

**Aš atsiprašau-Lithuanian: I'm sorry**

**Мне очень жаль-Russian: I'm sorry.**

**Sorry about my rant up top there...**


End file.
